


Lost and Found

by superbolide



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Own Voices, Physical Disability, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22583278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbolide/pseuds/superbolide
Summary: Noct had a problem. Just a little one. A teensy-weensy little problem.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skylark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box, Skylark! Hopefully you like reading this fic even half as much as I liked writing it. :) I have an SCI and have used a manual wheelchair for 8 years, so getting an excuse to write kid!Noct for somebody who DNW’d ‘medical inaccuracy’ was pretty great.

Noct had not been so far removed from Ignis since those first weeks after the accident he spent sleeping, beyond even His Majesty’s magic. With no others admitted to his chambers save the Oracle, Ignis had kept his bedside. Each day when he had told Noct of all the day’s events—few as they numbered, without the prince to inspire them—he had sent for books, and taken to study what he might of conventional medicine. Ignis had shared his findings with Noct as he slumbered until a nurse told him he needn’t the stress when he had such work to do to heal. After that Ignis kept silent, and only reached out for Noct’s hand in those moments he worried Noct might somehow think he had left.

When he woke, Ignis became his shadow. A rather taller shadow as it were, all the moreso because Noct had taken a chair. Officially a nurse was assigned to him at all hours should Noct need aid, or need anything. Except in the middle of the night, when Ignis was not allowed to sleep in the guest’s chair of Noct’s bedroom, he rarely called upon them. Rather Ignis did what he could: keeping him company, running errands for items which could still make him smile, or listening eagerly whenever Noct had found something to his liking or been allowed a visit with Lady Lunafreya. He learned to carry Noct in his arms from bed to chair, and later to kneel and offer Noct a shoulder to brace his weight as he transferred himself.

But Noct rarely wanted to leave his rooms, and even more rarely did his excursions escape Ignis’ notice. More often than not it was Ignis who accompanied him when he desired to venture into Altissia itself. He wasn’t fond of his caretakers, telling Ignis once to his confusion they were “too nice”, but Ignis had only nodded and agreed he would take Noct anywhere he wished.

When Ignis arrived to Noct’s room after his lessons finished, his stomach twisted to be told the prince was missing.

“Missing?” Ignis repeated to the guard. “Not—with Lady Lunafreya? Or His Majesty?” The guard only shook her head, and whatever she said was lost on Ignis as he turned away, thoughts racing.

That he (and his chair) had gone without Ignis, and without the knowledge of any member of the staff Ignis passed in the halls and questioned as to his whereabouts, drew tight into dread in Ignis’ heart. The bystanders in the streets of Altissia were likewise little help, though Ignis was not certain how a young boy clothed in black, in a clunky wheelchair far too large for him, could be _more_ conspicuous.

But if he were alone—and he must be—Ignis would not stop searching. Noct would not want him to alert the Crownsguard, so Ignis decided he must find him first, before dusk began to fall and he would require assistance to find a single lost boy amidst all Altissia’s streets and alleyways bathed in shadow.

Noct had a problem. Just a little one. A teensy-weensy little problem.

He’d been planning for ages to get something super special for Ignis’ birthday—something he’d really _like_ , and not just something dumb like socks or highlighters or whatever else his uncle probably got him—but then everything had happened with the Marilith and all the everything after _that_ , and the next thing Noct knew, Ignis’ 10th birthday had come and gone and Noct hadn’t gotten him anything at all. He was a _terrible_ best friend, and an even worse prince, because his dad was always giving him these speeches about how it was their duty as Lucis Caelums to do right by their subjects. It was hard to do worse by somebody than forget their birthday.

He wished he could tell Ignis how he felt.

He wasn’t _going_ to, because even if he didn’t say _what_ he forgot, Ignis might figure it out and then it wouldn’t be a surprise at all. But he’d know what to do. He’d probably tell Noct in the voice Noct says makes him sound like a teacher _better late than never_.

But one day every week Ignis has his own lessons, when he’s too afraid to wake Noct up to come see him in the morning and doesn’t show usually back up until the afternoon, and that’s when Noct knew he could sneak out, and make things right.

Noct had learned just a couple days ago how to use a transfer board so he could get in and out of his wheelchair on his own. _The_ wheelchair, that was, not his. The clunky old thing he had now was just a loaner while they were in Altissa visiting Luna: when they got home to Insomnia, _his_ chair would be waiting, custom-made to his measurements so he could get around by himself. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to—the physical therapist called it _self-propel_ —in the chair he was using now, because it was too big and too heavy, but she’d shown him how to use the transfer board anyway, so he wouldn’t always need somebody’s help getting to the bathroom. And he didn’t, anymore: it was hard because the wheels were so wide apart, but Noct could start and stop and turn around and engage the wheel locks, everything he needed to get around on his own. So who cared about _technically_?

It was easier to sneak out of their suite of rooms than it had any right to be, in a big squeaky old wheelchair and without a chaperone. One of the door guards asked, but believed Noct when he said they had to hang back to use the bathroom and would be down on the next elevator. Dad and _his_ guards wouldn’t let him, but they never really came to Noct’s rooms anyway.

Turned out getting outside was the easy part. He’d always gone with someone, Ignis or a guard or _someone_ , who knew their way around Altissia, so he didn’t pay a lot of attention. He knew it was big, not that it was _huge_ , and that there were a bunch of stairs, but whoever was pushing him always found a way. And anyway, it didn’t look so far on the map—even the long way, because he didn’t think he could take the gondolas alone.

It _wasn’t_ that far, he kept telling himself, when he’d gone a couple blocks and his shoulders and wrists started to hurt. He thought about taking a break, but just _sitting_ in this chair made his back hurt even if it was worse pushing—every time he moved his arms, leaning forward so he could reach the rims okay, it sent a shock of pain up the backs of his arms straight to where his back had gotten hurt. The longer he sat in it the weird sling seat made his butt go numb, too, and that was just… just _weird_. And he needed to get back before Ignis anyway, or else it wouldn’t be a surprise, and he didn’t even know yet what he was going to get. So he had to keep trying.

Noctis wished he already had _his_ chair: if he did, he probably wouldn’t be nearly so tired or hurting so badly, and nobody would be shooting him those weird, sad looks either, because his chair looked totally awesome and anybody would be jealous of it. Ignis and Luna had helped him pick it out, looking at stuff on the internet for hours and hours (Ignis had even made a whole spreadsheet for what he said were the pros and cons of all the different models, except it was all boring stuff like aluminium versus titanium and “monotube” versus whatever, and none of the actually _cool_ stuff, like what colors you could get it in or if the casters lit up) before they found a video of somebody at a skate park with a wheelchair that totally blew Ti-Lite out of the water. 

It had _suspension_ wheels like a car, so Noct wouldn’t have had to keep going all the way around the whole entire block to find ramps that were so steep trying to go down them without falling out of the chair gave him rug burn on his palms: he could just pop a wheelie like the girl in the video had and go down the stairs like everybody else.

He’d _almost_ gotten there when he got to the bridge he was looking for—and stopped, because there wasn’t any other way around. He couldn’t—he couldn’t keep _going_ around. The last hill to even _get_ here was so steep he almost couldn’t get to the top. He felt like a _snail_ , pushing and pushing and pushing and it still took him ten whole minutes to go thirty feet: nonstop, because if he took even long enough for a _breath_ not moving the tires decided they really wanted to be going _down_ the hill instead of up it. Muscles Noct didn’t even know he _had_ in his arms felt like jelly, except burning up, and he felt dizzy he was working so hard and every second his back hurt worse and worse, burning so bad it felt _cold_. It probably wasn’t _actually_ tearing his spinal cord worse, but it _felt_ like it, and he was scared his arms would just give up on him and he’d go careening backwards downhill and go flying into the water.

By the time he made it up—and he didn’t even _know_ how he managed that when every push felt impossible—there were tears pricking at his eyes, and he just engaged the locks on the wheels and folded up on himself, hugging his knees until he thought maybe he could breathe again. Made himself sit up, and keep going, and then—then—

Noct sat there for he didn’t even know how long, like maybe if he glared at the stairs hard enough they’d turn into an elevator, or—or he’d suddenly know how to warp, or _something_. He hated this, he hated this _dumb city_ with its dumb canals and its dumb hills and its dumb staircases, and he hated the Marilith, too, and everyone who was supposed to keep him safe from stuff like it. Most of all, he hated his own dumb idea landing him here, sitting in front of five dumb concrete stairs and trying not to cry like a baby.

Noct was a bad friend, and a bad prince, and this was him paying for it. If he’d just gotten Ignis a present _early_ —

“Are you alright, dear?” he heard from his side, and he turned too fast to look, pain flaring so fast in his lower back he thought maybe he was going to be sick. He screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to cry. He _wasn’t_.

He frowned, and opened his eyes again and looked. An old lady, like a grandma, was watching him. “Do you need help getting home?” she asked.

“No,” Noct said. “I mean, no thank you.” He still hadn’t done what he meant to, and if he did _all_ this and he couldn’t even get something to make Ignis happy… “I can get home,” he told her in his most grown-up voice. She still looked worried, but nodded, and walked away.

 _Could_ he get home, if he wanted to? He thought so. He knew the way now. But he also thought he’d be able to go out _and_ back, all before Ignis knew he was missing.

He felt his lip wobble and his throat get tight. He took a deep breath as he released the wheel locks—even just _reaching_ them made his arms hurt now—and with the last of his resolve wheeled himself a couple more feet to _under_ the staircase, where at least if he cried really, really quiet, nobody would find out.

When Ignis finally found him, the newly-lit streetlamps reflected gleaming in telltale track marks down Noct’s cheeks. It stole Ignis’ breath away. “Your Highness! Are you hurt? Did someone—”

“Ignis!” Noct looked up at Ignis like he’d hung the very stars in the sky, his big eyes wide and amazed. “You found me!” And then his gaze shifted, looking into the middle distance for his thought, and his chin screwed up with a dissatisfied frown. “I messed up,” he confessed.

“I don’t believe that,” Ignis said a beat too quickly. He knelt down on one knee so Noct wouldn’t have to look up at him. “Where is—” his guards, a caretaker, even Lady Lunafreya? “—anyone?” he finished dumbly.

“I snuck out. And now I’m stuck.”

Ignis looked at Noct, doing an astonishingly lifelike impression of a kicked dog sitting in his overlarge wheelchair, and then at the stairs leading up to the bridge over the canal. “I see,” he said—and true enough he saw the problem. It was only he wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here. “Where were you trying to go that you needed to sneak out for?”

Noct’s eyes got wide. “It’s a secret.”

“Not much of a secret any more, Noct.” Ignis sighed. “Here, I—you’ve already gotten this far. Let me help you get home—

“I can’t go yet. Not until…” he trailed off.

“Then may I come with you?” Ignis tried. “To, to wherever, and I’ll keep your secret.” Noct shook his head half-frantic, and Ignis amended, “If I close my eyes?”

Noct chewed at his lower lip, then nodded. “Okay. Thanks, Ignis. Help me up?” Raising up his arms to let Ignis grab under his armpits, Ignis saw him catch a yawn with the back of his hand.

“You must have had a long day,” said Ignis. If he had only come earlier, gone straight to Noct when he’d finished lessons, asked fewer questions of the tutor—but if he said any of this, it would only give Noct reason to feel guilty. Ignis lifted him, and heaved as he tucked Noct’s dangling legs against himself with his arm. Noct was nearly in the fetal position and Ignis was halfway to a backbend to keep his balance—Ignis was older, and taller, but not by enough not to make this any less awkward—but the first step went well enough, and then the rest.

“Yeah,” Noct agreed as Ignis set him down carefully on a sightseer’s bench beside a coin-op full of fish food. “I didn’t know it would _take_ this long.” 

“Well,” he said, “now that I’ve found you it should go quicker. You already made it most of the way. Probably,” Ignis added when realized he had, actually, no idea if that was true. “Do you want a few gil for that while I get your wheelchair up?”

“It’s not mine,” Noct groused.

Call that a ‘no’ on feeding the fish. Ignis took his hand from his pocket where he had already been reaching for the coins. “Whether it’s yours or not, I still need to bring it up the stairs. Will you be all right to stay here while I get it?”

He yawned again in the middle of what Ignis thought was, considering the circumstances, an unwarrantedly whiny, “I’m _fine_.”

“All right,” Ignis allowed, and went down for the wheelchair.

Getting it up was grueling work, and slow even with only the five stairs. The wheelchair weighed almost as much as Noct did, and _it _not only didn’t cling to his shoulders but also was too big to sit on the stairs, so Ignis had to pull it stepping up backwards and hope he didn’t lose his balance. Eventually, Ignis ascended the final stair and turned the wheelchair around to bring it to Noct, only to find him leaning back on the wooden bench, eyes closed.__

__Ignis wasn’t surprised. He rolled the wheelchair up beside the bench, bending over it to engage the locks, and then sat down beside his sleeping prince. “Here,” he said softly, hand on Noct’s thin shoulder. “Come on.”_ _

__Noct stirred. “Wait,” he mumbled, heavy with exhaustion, even as he let Ignis direct him not up into the chair but to lay his head down in Ignis’ lap. “I can’t take a nap, I have to get—I have work to do.”_ _

__Ignis shushed him. “You’re exhausted, Your Highness.” He was, too, after searching half the city, but that was less important. “Rest a bit, and then you can get your work done.”_ _

__Noct turned his face in to Ignis’ lap. “Mmkay,” he hummed, halfway to sleep once more. “Thanks, Specs.”_ _

__“Of course, Noct. Think nothing of it,” said Ignis, and petted his hair before reaching into his backpack to retrieve the history of the Accordan parliament that was to be the subject of this week’s essay. He would make what excuses he must to the guards when at last they arrived back, well after nightfall at this rate, and accept whatever punishment he received, though Noct always tried to argue he didn’t deserve them. But for now Noct needed his rest, and couldn’t be dissuaded from the task which set him here in the first place, so Ignis could be in no rush. He settled back against the stonework safety barrier, and let Noct sleep._ _


End file.
